


Detective Stage Right

by OmittedSiren



Category: D&D(Homebrew)
Genre: D&D Stories, Detective, Other, cyberpunk/fantasy, helpless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmittedSiren/pseuds/OmittedSiren
Summary: Based of my Cyberpunk/Fantasy world I wrote this for a friend of mine for her favorite detective.





	Detective Stage Right

The club was bright glowing radiant and dark in the same moment, the crowd was visible yet in the same moment the world was black as he swayed softly playing his piece at the piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly along the ivory keys of the piano, his favorite spot in the entirety of the city, right here on this stage, the light on him in such a brightened dark room. The shades dance and laugh covering the walls with their brilliant shadows, he sways subtlety, his tail softly unfurling as he mouth the words controlling the puppet of his former shell at the mic. She sways in time but only softly, her hands clutching the mic as she made love with the words of the songs, each syllable rolling off with a purr and a smile. Her glowing gold eyes matching the tattered detective, how could they know. He created her…he created himself. He is here for old friends, new friends. His charge, his student. Hell even on of his longest friends only two years younger than he was. He doesn’t see his serpentine friend waltz through, he doesn’t see her leave but one of the first times he uses the shells eyes to scan the crowd, he sees the soft engraving on the hilt of the rifle his heart sinks. No.. not her too…he snarls, slamming the lid of the piano, the music of the shades takes over disguising his outburst. He collects the shell and forces her into the hilt without anybody eyeing him. He makes sure of that. He walks over lighting a cigarette with shaky hands. Taking in the taste of sugar, sadly that never left him when he left big top. He walks up to the man bowing he reaches slowly for the gun. 

He is staring at a ringleader…impossible. His heart drops…not him too.. has he lost everyone again…has his world shattered, his tail flickers as he is handed the gun, his energy sinks. It is hers…they used to dance together. So innocently and playful. She was always a fan of the show while personally the over-sized demon would prefer to keep things more intimate. He snaps mindset flashing to that night. The night they took everything from him, from her. He aims and grabs the trigger snarling. 

He isn't new to this kind of murder. They will always come to run and protect those that they /think/ they can protect. Garbage. If he relies on his friends he wont be able to survive. His eyes sense movement, synced up to the code of the building he watches a small woman get closer, he grins his heart racing, he wouldn’t be afraid to kill everyone here, bathe in the blood, partake of flesh again. The grin widens in his head as his tail slides up his shirt, along the soft smoothness of the tank top, the trench hiding everything. Like a curtain to the show preparing for a big stunt. He knows full well that the goddess has no power over him anymore. She hasn’t for a long time her rules don’t apply to him as he curls his tail around the blade, with one motion he holds it to her face, glaring down the ringleader, he sees that he is starstruck. Good he won't put up a fight. The siren might be a little trickier…if he didn’t have experience already with their kind. Their throats always taste the sweetest, the blood intoxicating. 

He aims the gun to her grinning. He drags his tongue along his teeth, slicing the tip along his sharpened fangs, like a shark almost as he pops open the cavity, biting to activate his weapon of choice he syncs up with Raust and twirls. He is now looking at all three of them at once with his back fully to the small almost nonexistent threat. Leaning down he looks into her eyes and he pauses. The fire in her eyes. The burning in her throat, the urge to scream, the tears that begged to spill at him threatening her friends…if they did manage to kill his student and his friend of centuries she had no part of it. The fire, the temptation. He doesn’t want to move, he wants to keep their eyes locked in a gaze forever as it almost slows his heart. He seems to forget what he is doing here. 

The tone she uses with him. Barely half his height, yet so full of conviction. He doesn’t want to kill her no…he wants to take her. Claim her. Grab her and drag her to his office, keep her locked up his personal toy, the thoughts run crazy deeper darker until he sees a familiar panicked face run up shielding the small elegant dancer from his piercing gaze.  
It snaps him out of it. He blinks, his trance broken, his mind normal he stands up looking around. This party is interesting but they aren't killers. He feels his face get hot with shame as he quickly regains composure lighting another cigarette nervously but he refuses to let it show. Taking a deep drag. She won't look at him now. What is with this small dove in his sight. He has never be played with so roughly he wants to chase her, to claim her, yet he wants her to run free and exist in such a radiant light.

The ruined detective can't have something as pure and innocent as this ray of moonbeams. He collapses Raust, hoping if he turns to her with his real eyes he wouldn’t faulter in his step again, but with the turn and grin his heart pauses. Unable to contain it, he makes up any excuse, any escape, grasping for any reason to leave her presence. He goes outside finishing the last of his medicated cigarettes. Usually they calm him, he falls back against the wall looking at the sky….you don’t catch feelings…and what did you do? He snarls to himself digging his nails into his palm, looking at the stars yet all he can see are her red hot glowing cheeks. The moon as her piercing gaze, she is consuming him, yet he has never been so at peace, so at war. So calm yet so primal. 

As the night goes on his eyes don’t leave her, he watches her run, dance, laugh. Simply exist…she runs to the bathroom something clutched desperately in her hands. Oh no…he hurt her that bad. He upset her…he lost her. He rummages through his coat through the dozens of medications, verity of toys and gadgets to find a small pill bottle….i doubt she could trust me…he plays the words in his head of what to write, does he mention the way she sways he could feel as if he was a feather clutching to her chest. That when she talks he feels as if he was dancing on the shock waves of sounds…he slides the pill container under the door and heads out of the bathroom. The quiet mime, the ring leader, and their captured siren all bow, a variety of glitter, paint, glow and who knows what other brilliant colorful explosions coat the people, the place, the weapons, the mechs. All coated…including his favorite jacket. Heh, fitting, however the detective has had a lot worse on himself he grins until he watches his ward run off with the three, leaving the smallest alone…nobody to protect her. If she were to be attacked nobody would hear, nobody would find her. 

His mind swirls and spirals downwards, roughly. He can't grasp himself. He almost cant breath as he relives that night, one loud snarl escapes him. The older generations all stop and run to him as the energy turns sour, almost rotten. He turns and goes inside the bathroom, the now only clean room, he drops his coat scooping her up, pulling her to his chest, almost tight enough she would be able to hear his thoughts. 

Can she hear me? This beautiful aerial artist. Can she read him? No.. if she could read him she would be disgusted with him. Would be terrified, she would hate him. He walks not wanting to talk to her but wanting to tell her everything. He wants to hold her close and shove her away, the conflicting emotions the swirls, the spirals. He is falling, falling into his own mind. He grabs his knife with his tail slicing his abdomen to feel anything but her. To try not to focus on her breathing, her heart beat, those glowing eyes piercing into his soul. To exist without her. Don’t get attached Val…nobody can love a monster like you. Stick to the bachelor style. Don’t get attached…


End file.
